


It's a promise. Remember.

by staysharp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, and this is the one people seem to tag with that they cried and i'm so elated, but keep reading, i'm bluethisisforyou on tumblr btw, i'm so proud of myself, like this is so good, so i've been doing fic prompts on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:22:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7383472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staysharp/pseuds/staysharp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fic prompt 24:</p><p>You’re the only one I trust to do this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a promise. Remember.

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't read my tags, please feel 100% free to find me at bluethisisforyou on tumblr!
> 
> Thank you and I hope you like this as much as I do!

Wishes are impulsive and wanting.

And as Keith wishes, wishes he hadn’t gotten hurt, he feels like a wish in all it’s qualities. He doesn’t want to be incapacitated, useless and undriven. If only he hadn’t rushed in like he did or else he could be heading out right now with the others to scout the planets.

He can’t fly, what with two broken ribs and an arm in a sling. He curses under his breath, disappointment in his chest causing his heart to suffocate. 

But the suffocation’s relieved when he’s visited by Lance, who’s about to depart.

“You don’t have to look so beat up about not flying,” Lance starts and Keith glares at him, to which Lance only smiles. “I hope your hot-headedness has taught you something.”

“Not as much as your ego,” he huffs, dark hair gathered on his shoulders. “It’s taught me that I have no taste in men.”

“You lie, you have excellent taste,” Lance moves closer, sitting next to him on the chair. “I’m glad you do.” He grins. Keith scoffs, and turns to move when his ribs remind him he’s a wish, he’s impulsive, and he pays the price. He winces. “Hey now, careful. You have to be careful.” Lance’s voice grows softer and he loses the smile. “Take care of yourself,” Lance whispers, pressing a kiss to Keith’s cheek. It’s only a couple seconds and then he pulls away. Keith presses his hand to his cheek and the stars burn above.

“You’re one to talk,” Keith declares, lips craving to smile but they don’t. “I should be worrying about you. Make sure you do the same.” Lance easily slides into a smile, eyes looking down at his hands and that’s when Keith notices the bag he has.

It’s old and velvet and curled with faded gold lines. It’s red. “Lance?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Only if you ask nicely,” Keith retorts, a sliver of a smile appearing. It’s amazing, sitting there, just the two of them. It’s anything but the embodiment of a wish; it’s a promise.

“I need you to hold onto this for me,” and he offers up the bag. It’s small and intriguing, dangling between Lance’s fingertips. Keith reaches out, accepts it, and curiousity replaces the vile and unpredictable suffocation living in his chest.

“What’s in it?” The strings are waiting to be pulled, the bag waiting to be opened.

“Keith, listen to me. You cannot, under any circumstances, open it. Wait for me to come back.” He offers a smile and something pangs inside Keith’s chest and it’s new. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong.

“Lance, what-” He’s silenced by Lance resting his hand on Keith’s cheek, his thumb brushing at Keith’s hair.

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.” He pulls his hand away and immediately Keith’s heart reminds him that he is a wish, wanting Lance’s touch for even just a fraction of a bit longer. “Please.”

“It’s a promise.” Keith rests the bag at his side and then motions for Lance to come closer. “Remember.” And he presses his lips against Lance’s lips. When Keith breaks the kiss, he finishes his sentence. “Take care of yourself.”

“It’s a promise.” He stands up, his helmet resting on the side of his hip. “Remember.” Lance smiles brightly and Keith feels like he’s stared at the sun for too long. “Wait for me.”

And so Lance leaves, and Keith waits, waits for him to return later that day.

But he never does.

Time doesn’t wait for Lance but Keith does, he does.

Four years come and go and Keith’s been waiting ever since. The red bag sits on his desk and he continues training to take his mind off the sun he hasn’t seen for years. He doesn’t touch the bag after a year of looking for Lance and can’t even look at it after barely surviving three. But he knows, he knows it’s there.

It’s the heart of their promise.

And it’s getting harder and harder to keep.

As spaces silently and continuously expands, impulsively, Keith realizes he needs to go back home. 

He needs a breath of fresh air, to resume the normalcy his body forgets now. 

Yes, wanting, it pools at the bottom of his stomach, and he’s ready to force his body to accept that their promise is broken in this lifetime. Or maybe what’s broken is him, and it hurts a lot more than two broken ribs and an arm in a sling Keith wishes, wishes didn’t happen so long ago. It hurts because he is a wish, impulsive and wanting, but he dared to think he could ever believe in a promise.

It hurts.

And yet, he brings the bag with him, clutching it tightly all the way home.

His home, miraculously, is still there. It’s dusty and a ghost of the past but it’s home. Pictures are still pinned to a board, lines connecting them, and it’s all there, the beginning of it all, of the gathering of the five paladins. It’s all there, burned into his mind.

He can’t forget, he’s a wish.

Keith inhales, taking in a deep breath, letting it go. 

He needs to let go.

He needs to but he’s not a promise, he’s a wish, a wish whose heart wants everything back.

The air becomes unbreathable inside and his chest clenches and then he’s outside, outside and wanting Lance back. 

It’s unbearable. The stars now so far away shine in the sky and they’re reminiscent of the day that their heart was born. But their heart is fading, fading, and Keith is tired. He sits on the porch and snatches the red bag from his pocket, fingers shaking, with a certain hold on the weathered yellow string.

_Wait for me_.

Lance’s words echo at the back of Keith’s mind and he decides to give him one last chance, letting the strings slip from his fingertips. His chest hurts, hurts at the thought of holding out for one more night but their heart is not gone yet.

Even though he is waiting, he is tired, and sleep is kind to him underneath stars who remember too much.

The sun is making the horizon glow when he wakes. He watches with pained eyes, as the sun greets a new day and a last chance. It’s bittersweet and Keith wishes, wishes to believe in a miracle for a little longer. The clouds become orange and the rocky terrain around reveals itself and Keith finds himself looking away from the horizon, morning breeze blocking his vision for a moment and he brushes his hair out of his eyes, only to find it’s a mistake to look forward; he thinks he’s dreaming.

Lance is standing in front of him, aged and with longer hair, smiling.

“Thank you for waiting,” he speaks and Keith doesn’t know if this is real. “I’m sorry.” The sun he is almost ready to acknowledge as burned out stands before him, a flicker of a flame from long ago.

Keith doesn’t know if Lance is real and he’s at a loss for words. The boy in front of him looks at Keith’s hands and smiles more warmly, stepping forward, kneeling in front of him. “Looks like I trusted the right person, mi amor.” He places a hand on Keith’s face and everything comes flooding back.

“You’re really here, aren’t you?” Keith whispers, slowly raising his hand to hold Lance’s in place. 

“I’m home.”

It’s warm and the stars are no longer harsh. Keith’s emotions from the past four years are bottled tightly in his chest and he’s feeling dangerously close to suffocating. His face changes and Lance knows, he knows. Keith opens his mouth when Lance cuts him off.

“Keith, you have every right to be angry at me because I promised you I was supposed to be careful but I wasn’t. I know I deserve everything you have to say but it’s been four years,” Lance admits, voice steady. “You can open the bag now,” he finishes and Keith doesn’t know what to expect as he pulls open the bag. Red comes apart and their heart is open. 

It’s open.

Keith pulls out a black box and he can only wonder what exactly was worth waiting for all these years. He opens it, and a flash of silver is the first breath of a sunrise from his very own sun.

“Will you marry me?”

And like a wish, Keith is wanting; like a wish, Keith is impulsive.

Together, they are a promise; and together, they are a promise to last a lifetime.


End file.
